Imagine with me for a minute: You're a 14-year-old girl, your parents are suddenly gone, and you're left to care for your younger siblings with zero resources. Your younger sisters are ages 9, 7, twins 4, 3, and a baby. Are you feeling panicked yet? These are the shoes that big-sister Katherin was filling for over a month, alone.

They are not alone now. These 7 girls arrived here at GiveHope2Kids one week ago. They came with only the clothes on their backs. All were malnourished and two had bronchitis. They were listless and obviously insecure.

It's just one week later, but already you can see a change in these girls. They're more alert, more active, and they smile. It's amazing how one week of good care can make such a difference.

But one week of care isn't our goal. We're in this for the long-haul. If we can reunite a child with family, that is obviously our ideal, but for most of our kids that's just not possible. For as long as a child is here, we are raising them in the best family-environment that we can. We will educate them and prepare them to support themselves as independent adults, and not let them go until they're ready to fly. We want to be their forever-family.

Seven sisters are now living with Grandma Gladys. We will be their home and family for as long as they need it.

Will you help us do this? We were already needing sponsors and adding in 7 more kids makes our need for sponsors that much more urgent! Be a blessing to these kids. Help us a make a difference in their lives!

We've all had those wonderful experiences resting in His presence on a Sunday morning. The music lifts the poetry of our praise to the heavens like incense coolly rising from the ash and embers. We rejoice looking toward the sky. Our eyes might see stage lighting and the soft color of faraway stucco but none of these can distract us from our upward gaze and serene worship.

But what if the ceiling fell out?

I was looking at the drop ceiling in our largest room at the church, the room where we've been gathering on Sunday mornings. The heavy plaster was drooping, pulling at sagging concrete like an impetuous child on a tired mothers arm. We spoke with the landlord and removed the ornate canopy. As relieving as it was to see the heavy blanket above our heads gone it exposed a network of cricks and cracks. We roped off the sanctuary and moved into the smaller room, packing in like sardines in the hottest, most humid time of year.

The landlord promised he would come and make the repairs. Days joined days forming weeks. Nearly a month passed on the promise that he was coming. Every day I looked up at that ceiling nervously; that larger room, enviously; the electrical sockets and fans we'd installed, longingly.

Waiting.

Doubting.

One sweaty Sunday after service a large piece broke free from its rusty rebar prison and smashed with its full force into the tile below. I felt my heart sink and shatter like the bludgeoned ceramic tile.

And then something miraculous happened! The building owner flew into action. He rushed to the church with a crew of workmen with new support beams and hardhats, who immediately began tearing away the dilapidated roof.

Looking up from our sanctuary and seeing blue sky was worshipful. That sagging ceiling had hung heavily around my shoulders, worrying me about what might happen if a piece rained down during worship; questioning, even after we'd roped off the area if a child might wander in under the precarious roofing. In a small, almost excusable way, I had begun to doubt. A snowball effect of more unlikely events that exposed the cracks in my own belief. As if the building were falling down around us my heart began to question if we would ever see revival.

And then the ceiling fell out.

Something that should have sunk my emotions deeper opened up the heavens, like an open window exposing the limitless power of God. I stood there looking through the open ceiling of our church with all my doubt laid bare. I'd felt like the people of Israel returned home from exile to a kingdom with no king, a promised land with barren vines. They sat in their homes doubting the power of God and started robbing the Lord of their tithe, their worship, their trust.

And then the word of God broke through the ceiling of the heavens. Through His prophet Malachi He threw down a concrete declaration challenging their doubt, challenging their faith. He called His people to bring in their tithe and offering, to step out in faith and believe.

And God still challenges us today. He calls to believe, to trust, to hope. Even now Jesus is creating windows through peeling plaster and bending rebar to pour down His blessings, His promises, revival. We rejoice in the broken, even as we rejoice in the rebuilding. We rejoice as we wait for the floodgates to burst through and the Lord pours out revival.

I'm leading a Titus school outreach team. After leaving Mexico, driving to LA, flying to Costa Rica and busing to Panama we've finally made it to YWAM Chiriqui! It was nice to be able to settle in and get a good night sleep. Thus begins the Titus outreach.

Our first day consisted of orientation to our new location, prepping for teachings, exploring Boquete, teaching at the base Bible study and preparing more teachings for tomorrow. We hit the ground running. We're stoked for our next two months in Panama!

Today we began teaching the Bible Overview at a boys home where we taught the character and nature of God, creation, the fall of man, promise of restoration, and the call of Abraham. After teachings we played them in a game of basketball then finished up the evening with another interactive bible study with the kids from indigenous communities that stay at the YWAM base to continue their education. Outreach is fun, God is good and His word is going forth!

Thank you for praying with us!

{Top: Berkeley and the outreach team she is leading. Bottom: Outreach at the boys home.}

This year has been a year of adding finishing touches to our myriad of building projects from the past 8 years. Too often when we urgently need to get to the next project, we've rushed past the finishing touches our spaces need. So this year we've painted walls that have never seen a coat of paint before, trimmed windows, and added on a much needed storage shed. We've finished off our community areas better too, which makes things run smoother for our Friday Night Youth Group. Currently we're finishing a road for better access to our agricultural projects and we're expanding and improving housing for our pigs....Our top new investment though is in people: We recently welcomed in a new house-parent to our team, Grandma Gladys, who is caring for three new siblings, Katia, Dilmer, and Brianna. Giving a stable home to these kids is why we push through all the other projects. This is the heart of GiveHope2Kids.

"I have seen the smoke from the campfires of a thousand villages where the name of Christ has never been proclaimed."

I love that image. The great missionary Robert Moffat looked out across the velds of South Africa and his heart cried out for the unreached nations before him. The smoke rising up across the horizon was a constant reminder that the task was unfinished. With every flame came a spiraling cloud. A thousand tribes of men, women and children circling around the fires and from the distance he watched as those signal fires marked out the nations.

I have seen the smoke.

Moffat had followed the call of God into missions as a young man, spurred forward by the testimonies from Moravian missionaries, stories he heard sitting at his mother’s knee. His soul shook with an unquenchable passion to reach those nations and proclaim the name of Jesus.

I have seen the smoke.

Every time I read these words my soul leaps into action. I’m stirred to prayer and spurred to reach unreached villages. But Africa has changed so much in the last two centuries since Moffat first arrived in January of 1817. There are still villages and there are still fires. There are still spirals of smoke rising up across the African plains and desert dunes where the name of Jesus Christ has never been proclaimed.